Tricky Treats

20. Who's the Boss

CHAPTER 20 

"Blasted!" the mayor yelled.

He wiped the hot tea from his shirt with a handkerchief. The heat still stung his flesh on his chest.

"Fuck!" he seethed as he continued to forcefully wipe the brown stain on his pristine white shirt. He slammed the empty teacup on the desk with a scowl. He had stepped away from the window with a bitter taste. The sweet shop was still going strong, with a string of customers filtering through. If not more than before!

His advice didn't work with the residents, a hint to stay away from the madam and her suspicious dubious treats! Instead, it had the opposite effect as the town went full throttle, guzzling down chocolates.

But if rumors wouldn't work for everyone to see reason, he had to choose another route. The madam wasn't a saint, and she didn't abide to the laws, at least a few of them. No! Most of the laws! He couldn't wait to discipline her.

The mayor's eyes wondered at the black and white picture frame on his table. A portrait of a woman with a Hollywood curly bob hair style and thin pearls across her neck looked back at him with a sophisticated smile. His wife. A portrayal of class and elegance. He sighed hopelessly, knowing he couldn't meet to her high standards — judging himself for it since the day she left.

He had already lost his wife.

He will not lose Finchdale!

He pulled on his suit jacket and buttoned it up, covering up his fresh tea stain. There was no time to change into a new shirt. He grabbed the written fines and stuffed it into his pocket. The mayor needed to get onto the streets and seize control.

It was time for a long overdue visit.

Someone needed to be reminded who's in charge and that laws of Finchdale needs to be abided by. A few minutes later, the mayor stepped onto the cobbled streets and settled his smoky grey hat on his sleek, neat blonde hair. He breathed in deeply the cool air, filling his lungs and composed himself. He walked down the street, observing the residents. But there was something different.

He greeted a few townsfolk that greeted politely back. But there was a change. A few didn't acknowledge him. They ignored and didn't greet him as he walked past. The men didn't tilt their hats in his direction. A red T-Bird two-seater convertible drove by, blasting rockabilly music from the radio. And the women... he stopped and watched with a concerned frown.

He noticed a subtle touch, but enough to stand out. The women's clothes had changed. It was brighter with bolder colors. He dared say, clung slightly tighter by their waists and chests. Their hairstyles were trendier — French twists, poodle hair, and Bettie bangs. Including the men — with retro vibes and hair gelled with grease.

His troubled eyes darted around. Married couples walking on the pavement hand in hand. One young man kissed a young woman on her cheek and slapped her bottom playfully.

The mayor instantly marched up! "Have you no decorum?!" he glowered. "This is not allowed. You're in violation of Rule no. 7!" he gritted his teeth with a pointed stare.

The couple jerked back with stunned eyes. "Sorry mayor." The young man said. "Serena said we should —"

"Serena?!" the mayor uttered the words like venom and blinked twice. He forgot to say Madam Serena. He hadn't even seen her yet and already he forgot himself. But of course, she'll be behind this corruption in his town.

He marched past the couple and stomped to Tricky Treats! The mayor stormed into the sweet shop with his hands clasped rigidly behind his back and looked around. The few customers' browsing exited through the doors, noticing the mayor was in a bad mood.